Little Miracles
by maxandkiz
Summary: AU The night of the fire baby Sammy is taken.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Supernatural and all its characters belong to Kripke and the CW. I own nothing. 

AN- I found this when I was cleaning out my Dropbox. I started it last year after a flurry of stories where Mary didn't die. The boys disappeared instead. The boys were either found or put in foster care with Mary and John. Anyway, the majority of the stories had an emotionally and physically scarred Dean while Sammy was a happy oblivious little kid. And while Dean would definitely attempt to protect Sammy from abuse, he wouldn't be able to prevent it from ever happening. And Sammy would be very aware of the abuse. 

So, I started this one but it kind of got pushed to the side and forgotten until now. 

SPN 

John sat on the hood of the impala cradling a sleeping Dean and Sammy while he watched the smoldering embers of what used to be his home. He still wasn't quite sure what had happened. He could have sworn his Mary had been pinned to the ceiling; that he'd had to use all his strength to pry her off. But that couldn't have happened. People didn't get stuck to the ceiling like that. And then there was the fire. It had suddenly shot out from around his beloved wife. It looked like someone had made a circle of gasoline around her and then threw a match on it only there had been no gas or match. The fire had just magically started. But those things were impossible. Yet that was what he had seen. What was going on? What had really happened and why was his family or more specifically his youngest son targeted? He glanced down at the peacefully sleeping infant. John wasn't sure why but he had a horrible feeling that the fire had something to do with Sammy. Mary had been right above the baby's crib and the fire seemed to almost reach out to their precious son. Why would anything want…?

"Mr. Winchester, could we talk to you for a moment?" Sheriff Daniels asked as he came up beside the clearly shell shocked father.

John slowly lifted his head and looked at the officer. "I, I" he quietly stammered, glancing back down at his sons. "My, my boys are sl-sleeping and I'd rather, rather not wake th-them."

"I'll watch them for you John." a feminine voice softly called from the other side of the classic car.

Both men turned to see the Winchester's newest neighbor, Judith Anderson, walking towards them.

John tightened his grip on his children. "Thanks, but I'd rather keep them with me." He sternly replied, wincing as Dean shifted in his sleep. Lowering his voice and softening his tone, the Winchester patriarch looked back at the cop and asked, "Can't we do this tomorrow?"

The sheriff shook his head. "I really need to talk to you tonight, son." he answered. "It won't take long. I promise. The Fire Chief and I just need to go over a few things with you."

John glanced from his sleeping boys to Ms. Anderson and then the sheriff before finally nodding. "Alright" he agreed. "But just for a minute. I don't want Dean waking up and finding me gone."

"Understood" Sheriff Daniels said. He waited for the younger man to hand off his children and then the two walked over to the fire truck where the chief was waiting. 

SPN 

"And that's all I remember." John finished.

Fire Chief Holmes nodded. "So you didn't actually see what started the fire?"

John huffed. "Like I told you, Mary was…

"DADDY! DADDY!"

John's head whipped around at the terrified scream. Spying Dean sitting alone on the car, the former Marine sprinted over to his son. He scooped up his crying child and hugged him to his chest. "Shhh, it's alright Dean. Everything's going to be alright." He whispered. While he comforted his eldest, his eyes darted around for any sign of his youngest. He couldn't see Sammy or Ms. Anderson. Trying not to panic, John looked down at his sniffling four year old. "Dean, do you know where Ms. Anderson went with Sammy? Did she go to change his diaper or something?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't know where Sammy is daddy." He tiredly replied. "He wasn't here when I woke up. Nobody was here."

"Shit!" John exclaimed.

"Mr. Winchester, what's going on? What's wrong?" Sheriff Daniels asked as finally got to father and son.

"That bitch took Sammy!" John hollered. "She kidnapped my son!"

The sheriff's eyes went wide. "Sir, sir just calm down. I'm sure there's a logical explanation for her absence." He suggested, even though deep down he knew the man was right. "I'll get my men and we'll conduct a house by house search for Ms. Anderson and Sammy. They're probably at a neighbor's house getting a clean diaper or maybe some formula for the little one. Don't worry. Wherever they are we'll find them." 

Five years later 

Social worker Marion Williams gazed over at the bedraggled five year old huddled in the corner and sighed. The little guy had been in her custody less than twelve hours and she already knew that he'd be almost impossible to place. He was petrified of any and all adults, something she couldn't fault him for knowing his history. But that wasn't the stumbling block to finding him a foster home nor was the fact that he hadn't left that corner except to use the facilities in all the time he'd been in the agency. No, what was going to make his placement so difficult was that he needed to be protected from certain things; certain unnatural things. It hadn't taken long in the youngster's company for Marion to deduce that. Between the record the cop's had managed to piece together and the child's sleep talk about a yellow eyed man Marion had more than enough information to decide that the five year old would have to be placed with a hunter. And there in lie the problem. The majority of hunters were solitary creatures. They hunted alone or sometimes in pairs. They might have friends and connections but she hadn't heard of any that had family. It was just too dangerous in their profession. Still, she might be able to find one that had either retired, she snorted at that thought, or was willing to retire. Actually, there was no might about it. She had to find one. Her charge had to be placed in foster care and if she couldn't find a willing hunter, he would be sent to live with some unsuspecting family. And Marion wouldn't allow that to happen. Little Sammy deserved to live and she was going to ensure that he got to. Her mind set Ms. Williams picked up the phone. Crossing her fingers that the hunter was still alive and could help, she dialed a number she hadn't used in years. Marion listened breathlessly as it rang again and again. She started to hang up after the sixth ring but just before her hand made the motion a gruff voice answered. Marion smiled. "Mr. Singer, its Marion Williams. I need your help." 

AN- Well, what do you think? Keep or trash?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Supernatural and all its characters belong to Kripke and the CW. I own nothing.

AN- Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I was thrilled to find out you wanted more!

Previously on SPN- She started to hang up after the sixth ring but just before her hand made the motion a gruff voice answered. Marion smiled. "Mr. Singer, its Marion Williams. I need your help." 

SPN 

Bobby glanced out the front window for the fifth time in as many minutes. He was so anxious. Today could go one of two ways and if his past was any indication, it wouldn't be the way he wanted it to. If his life had taught him anything, it was that the good things in life didn't come his way, at least not for long. The Winchesters were the one and only exception. Since they had breezed into his life four years ago, they had brought nothing but joy. Sure John and Mary were sometimes beat to hell when they showed up but that didn't stop them from brightening up his home every time they set foot inside his door.

Bobby had never met a couple like John and Mary. They could be fighting like cats and dogs one minute and the next they were all lovey dovey with each other. He'd never seen anything like it. It was hard for him to imagine how they ever got together, let alone fell in love. The two were opposites in almost every way. John was a hard ass ex-Marine while Mary was a gentle loving soul. John was all gruff orders where Mary was gentle coaxing. John tended to dive into things half assed while Mary preferred to meticulously research before going into a hunt. They were both stubborn as hell though. When they ended up with different opinions, which was most of the time, neither was willing to back down. And getting one of them to admit they were wrong was as easy as getting into Fort Knox. About the only thing the two chuckleheads did agree on was how to raise their boy Dean.

Dean. Just the thought of the kid made Bobby smile. The nine year old was something else. Hearing how Dean's parents smothered him, Bobby had expected to meet a kid that was either a whiny scared of his shadow baby or an arrogant hateful brat. Thankfully for everyone that wasn't the case. Dean Winchester was a regular pistol Pete. He was cocky and smart and had a razor sharp wit. And the shit eating grin that always came out when the little prankster had gotten one over on someone could light up three states. Dean was the one who had shown him that he wouldn't be like his old man. He was the reason Bobby felt comfortable taking in a kid. A boy of his own; dang! That had a nice ring to it.

The rumble of a car engine drew the salvage owner out of his thoughts. Flicking back the curtain, he glanced out, smiling at the sight of the cherry red SUV. His foster son was here! Bobby stepped back from the window and after straightening his ball cap, hurried to the front door. He threw the door open and stepped out onto the porch. Figuring that the little boy would be frightened, Bobby tamped down on the urge to race over to the car. He settled for sitting on the top step instead.

From this vantage point the hunter watched Mrs. Williams exit her Jeep and walk to the back door. That door opened and a pair of tiny ragged sneakers appeared. Bobby straightened up, frowning as he got his first good look at his foster son. The emaciated boy was about the size of a three year old at most. His mop of brown hair was tangled and filthy and his clothes were dirty and torn and totally inappropriate for the November weather. And worst of all the little guy looked terrified. He kept glancing around the yard and over his shoulder like he expected someone to jump out and grab him. Bobby wondered what…an eyebrow shot up as the boy suddenly calmed. His eyes no longer darted around. It was like he suddenly realized he was safe. But what could have done that? He hadn't even met Bobby yet. The kid hadn't even gotten to the porch. He had just walked onto the…Bobby's other eyebrow rose to meet the first. Sammy had relaxed as soon as he passed the ceramic flower pots; the pots that had Devil's Traps etched onto them. Could the boy have…

"Mr. Singer!" Mrs. Williams called out as she walked up to the porch. "Thank you so much for agreeing to help. I know I didn't give you much notice but my office is just not set up to handle a situation such as this."

Pasting on his brightest smile, Bobby drug his eyes away from his boy and turned them onto the CPS worker. "Not a problem ma'am" he replied. "I'm just happy you figured out what was going on and called me. I hate to even think of a civilian trying to handle what might be coming."

Mrs. Williams shuddered. "Me too" she agreed. She then pulled her charge out from where he was hiding behind her. "Mr. Singer, I'd like for you to meet Samuel." Hearing a growl, she sighed. "I mean Sammy. Sammy, this is Mr. Singer. You're going to be staying with him for a while. Won't that be nice?"

"Hey there Sammy!" Bobby greeted as he stood and walked down the stairs. He squatted down in front of the boy and held out a hand. "I'm Bobby. Nice to meet ya!"

Sammy stayed stock still, refusing to so much as look up at the man.

"Not up to talking, huh?" Bobby questioned. "Well, that's okay. Sometimes I don't feel like talking much either."

Hoping to get the boy to talk, Mrs. Williams announced, "Today is Sammy's birthday! He's five years old today!"

"Really?" Bobby said, his smile brightening. "Well, happy birthday buddy! We'll have to have us some birthday cake with our lunch." Standing up, he motioned towards the front door. "Why don't we go inside and see if I have the ingredients for a cake? It's kinda chilly out here."

Mrs. Williams made a face. "I wish I could but I have another appointment across town." She fibbed. She transferred her hold on Sammy to Bobby before leaning down. "I have to go now Sammy. You be good for Mr. Singer, alright?"

Sammy remained silent.

"Don't worry Mrs. Williams. Sammy and I will be just fine." Bobby assured the woman.

"I'm sure you will." Marion replied with a smile. "I've really got to be going now. Good day, Mr. Singer. If you need me for anything, please let me know."

"I will." Bobby answered. "Bye Mrs. Williams" The salvage owner watched the CPS worker get into her vehicle and drive away before glancing down at his new charge. Picking up the plastic shopping bag Mrs. Williams had left, Bobby tightened his hold on the tiny wrist. "Come on kiddo, let's go inside where it's warm." He pulled the now struggling boy up the steps, across the porch, and into the house. He didn't release the child's hand until the two crossed the living room threshold.

The second he was loose Sammy raced over to the furthest corner and curled into a ball.

Bobby sat down in his recliner and looked at his foster son. "Hey buddy" he called, using the softest tone he had. "What do you say I run a bath for you? I bet you'll feel a lot better once you're all clean."

Sammy flinched but otherwise didn't move.

"Okay" Bobby said, running a hand down his bearded chin. "I can understand that. I doubt I'd be too keen on bathing with a stranger in the next room either." He picked up a well-worn children's book and held it up for the boy to see. "How about we read a story instead?" Taking the boy's silence as an affirmative, Bobby opened the Dr. Seuss book and began to read. 

SPN 

Bobby took off his hat, raked a hand through his hair, and then replaced his battered trucker's cap. He was beginning to seriously question his decision. He'd tried everything in his arsenal to engage Sammy but the frightened boy remained curled in his corner. The hunter had no idea where to go from here. There had to be some way to bring the boy out.

The distinct roar of the Winchester's Impala cut through his thoughts. Bobby went over to the window and pushed the curtain back. Seeing the shiny black beauty skidding to a stop in its normal spot, he frowned. What were they doing… 'Awww crap!" Bobby thought, staring at the calendar on the opposite wall. He'd forgotten what day it was. November 2nd with the Winchesters wasn't ever fun but with his new charge it was sure to be a bitch. If they stay, that is. Knowing John and Mary's usual disposition on the day they lost their youngest, the two might take one look at Sammy and bolt. Bobby wouldn't really blame them if they did. Seeing a little boy who was around the same age as their youngest and who had the same name as their son was going to be murder. Resigning himself to a volatile next few minutes, Bobby trudged over to the front door and opened it.

"Hey Uncle Bobby!" Dean hollered as he ran into the house.

Bobby's dog Rumsfield quickly took advantage of the door being open. He ran inside the house and sniffed a couple of times before letting out a deep bark and making a beeline for the boy in the corner.

"Rumsfield! No!" Bobby shouted, trying to grab the large mutt's collar.

The dog easily dodged his master's hands. It bounded right up to Sammy and began furiously licking every part of the boy he could reach.

"Rumsfield! Don't do…" Bobby broke off as a giggle rang out. Looking over to the corner, he saw Sammy patting the dog and giggling. Bobby smiled. Maybe today wasn't going to turn out so bad after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Supernatural and all its characters belong to Kripke and the CW. I own nothing.

AN- This chapter is dedicated to my sweet little butterball Max who died of cancer Jan. 10.(the dog in my profile picture.)

Previously on SPN- Bobby smiled. Maybe today wasn't going to turn out so bad after all. 

SPN 

Dean studied the boy in the corner for a moment before turning to the junk yard owner. "Who's the kid, Uncle Bobby?" he asked.

"He's my foster son." Bobby replied.

Dean scowled at the hunter. "Son? You got a kid?!" he asked, his voice rising with each word. "The Hell did you do that for?! I, I can't believe you!" Spinning on his heel, the angry nine year old stormed back out the door.

"Bobby! What the hell did you do to Dean?" a gruff voice barked from the doorway.

Sammy froze at the sound. Seeing the angry looking newcomer, the tiny boy let go of the dog, drew his knees up to chest, and dropped his head onto his knees. Throwing his arms over his head, he waited for the pain to come.

Cursing John Winchester under his breath, Bobby rounded on the inconsiderate idgit. "Nothing" he said, keeping his voice soft to avoid scaring his boy. "He just bowed up when he heard I had a foster son."

"Foster son?" John echoed. Noticing the ragged boy in the corner for the first time, the younger man swallowed hard. "Wh-what made, how did, why?"

"A lady I did a job for a few years back works at the CPS the next town over. She called and asked if I'd take him and once she explained the special circumstances, there was no way I could say no." Bobby explained. Seeing his friend open his mouth, the salvage owner shook his head. "Later"

"Alright" John reluctantly agreed, resisting the urge to look back at the child. The last thing he needed was a reminder of what they'd lost, especially today.

A red eyed Mary glanced over at the cowering boy. "He's so tiny." She whispered. "How old is he?"

"As of today he's five" Bobby answered, wincing as the woman's face fell.

"To-today is his birthday" Mary softly whispered. "B-B-B-Bobby, what's his name?"

"Sammy" Bobby filled in.

Mary let out a strangled sound before throwing a hand over her mouth and rushing up the stairs.

"Sammy" John quietly repeated. His eyes slowly drifted to the boy in the tattered clothing. "Bobby"

"I know Johnny. I know. But I had to. He needs me." Bobby told the grieving man. "Look, let's go…"

"I've, I've gotta go check on Mary." John stammered before dashing up the stairs and out of sight.

Bobby sighed. That hadn't gone at all like he'd hoped it would. He'd managed to upset all three Winchesters in under a minute. That had to be a record. Oh well, they'd come around in time. And if they didn't, that was just tough. He had more important things to worry about. The salvage owner looked over at his son. The boy was still curled in his corner looking like he was expecting to get a beat down. And considering what the Mrs. Williams had told him of the boy's past, the kid was probably right to anticipate a hit coming. Only Sammy was Bobby's little boy now and Bobby wasn't about to allow anyone to lay a hand on his child. He'd ki…movement pulled the salvage owner out of his thoughts. Seeing Sammy's arm snake around Rumsfield's back and his hand begin patting the guard dog brought the smile back to Bobby's face. And it also gave him an idea. The hunter tromped back over to his recliner, plopped down, and then pretended to critically eye the mangy mutt. "You know, Rumsfield could sure use a bath." He observed, fighting the urge to cheer when Sammy actually glanced up at him. "He's nastier than a truck stop bathroom." Bobby paused for a moment, rubbing his bearded chin in thought. "Any chance you'd be willing to bathe him for me? You'd have to get in the tub with him so you could reach every part of him. And that would mean taking off your clothes because you don't want them to get all wet."

Sammy's eyes widened and his curious expression changed to one of fear.

"I'd do it myself but I don't have the time." Bobby fibbed. "See, there's this old clunker of a truck out back that I need to work on. I told the owner I'd have it ready for him by lunch and it'll never be ready in time if I don't get on out there and get to work. And I can't ask our guests. John and Mary are gonna stay cooped up in their room all day doing who knows what and Dean'll be outside playing. So that just leaves you. What do you say? Can you help an old man out?" Getting no reply, the newly crowned father added, "I can fill the tub for ya and I'll put the step stool right next to it so you won't have to try to lift Rumsfield. Oh, and I'll set a couple of those small bags of cookies out. I know he's not supposed to have people food but he loves'em and a few won't hurt him. You two can both have some when you're through. How about it, huh? You up to helping me, kiddo?"

Sammy glanced from Bobby to Rumsfield and back before giving a slight nod.

"That's the spirit!" Bobby exclaimed. He climbed back out of his chair and slowly walked over to the shopping bag. Pulling out the button up shirt, sweater vest, and dress pants, he made a face. "Dang! No wonder you didn't wanna wear these!" he commented before smiling. "Lucky for you I've got something a little more appropriate for you to wear." He went over to the couch and picked up a tiny pair of overalls, a blue shirt with a dog on it, and a plaid button down shirt as well as underwear, socks, and light up tennis shoes. "These will look much better on ya. Now I'll just go run the water and lay out the soap and all the other stuff you'll need. You stay here and keep Rumsfield company. Okay?" Getting another nod, Bobby hurried out of the room. 

SPN 

After a couple of hours of covertly watching his charge, Bobby tiptoed down the basement stairs, made his way out the wooden doors that led to the outside, and then tromped up the back porch steps and into the kitchen. Stomping his feet on the mat to announce his presence, the foster father walked through the kitchen and into the living room. He immediately looked over to the corner, pretending to be surprised when he saw the now clean boy and dog. "Well, lookie at you two." Bobby said with a grin. "You're looking good. Nice job Sammy"

A hint of a smile came over the boy's face, making Bobby's heart soar.

Hearing the youngster's tummy rumble, the hunter chuckled. "Come on kiddo. Let's go rustle us up some hot dogs and chips." Bobby suggested as he turned and headed to the kitchen. "You've gotta be hungry after all that hard work."

Stepping into the kitchen, Bobby went over to the cabinets and got out his cooking pot as well as a bag of chips and hot dog buns. After filling the pot with water and setting it on the stove, he walked to the fridge and pulled out the pack of hot dogs he'd bought yesterday. Smiling as the pitter patter of little feet sounded, the father kept his focus on what he was doing. He didn't want to scare the boy. Instead Bobby took the hot dogs over to the stove and placed several in the pan to cook. "Hey Sammy, could you get two plates outta that bottom cabinet by the fridge and put them on the table for me?" he asked.

Sammy hurried over to the cabinet and pulled out the requested plates. He carried them very carefully over to the table and gently set them down. He didn't want to make his new master angry by breaking his good dishes. The frightened boy risked a glance at the hulking figure. Shivering, he looked back to the table, straightened the plates he's set out, and then dashed over to the furthest corner of the room and took up his customary pose.

Bobby hummed the most upbeat Johnny Cash song he could think of as he speared the hot dogs and placed them in buns. Picking up the tray of food and the chip bag, he turned around, frowning when he noticed his foster son cowering in the corner once more. The salvage yard owner swiftly pasted a smile on his face so the boy wouldn't think he was mad. He walked to the table and set down their lunch before taking a seat himself. After loading both plates with hot dogs and chips, the hunter turned his attention to the little boy. "Aren't you hungry, Sammy?" he asked. "I made more than enough for the both of us."

Sammy curled further into himself. He hated this game. He knew his master wasn't really going to allow him to eat. He was just offering to see if Sammy would go over there and take a bite. Then he'd punish him for eating his food. Sammy wasn't falling for it; not this time.

Bobby watched as a wealth of emotions flitted across the five year old's face in a matter of seconds. The kid thought he was being tricked that much was clear. Cursing the bastards that had made the boy believe he wasn't allowed food, the new father sighed. He'd just have to try a different tactic. "Sammy, come eat." He ordered. Seeing the youngster fearfully get up and inch his way over to the table made the hunter feel like the worst kind of scum. Needing to explain things, Bobby waited for the five year old to sit and then cleared his throat, garnering the child's attention. "Sammy, son I know the people you lived with weren't very nice to ya. I know they hurt you." he stated. "And I want you to know that's not going to happen here. I'm never going to hurt you and I won't let anyone else hurt you either. You're safe here. Understand?"

Although Sammy nodded his expression told a very different story. It was clear that the boy didn't believe the hunter's pep talk at all. Not that Bobby expected a different response. He guessed he'd just have to show the kid he meant what he said, starting with…he slid the boy's plate closer to him. "Go ahead buddy. Eat up." Bobby waited for Sammy to take a few tentative bites before picking up his own hot dog and sinking his teeth in it. 

SPN 

After cleaning the dishes and throwing away the remnants of the five year old's lunch, Bobby grabbed Rumsfield's leash and strode into the living room to get their coats. He swiftly pulled his jacket on before attaching the dog's leash to his collar. He then held the tiny hat and coat out to his boy. "Here you go Sammy. You're going to need these if you're gonna go walking with me and Rumsfield."

Sammy cocked his head to one side and stared up at his master in surprise. The man wanted him to go outside? But it wasn't safe outside! The people with the black eyes could get him if he was outside! And they would…a gleam of silver on the bomber jacket's lapel caught his eye. Eyeing the sparkling metal, the frightened boy noticed the pin's design; it was the same as the markings on the flower pots in the yard. The protection symbol! It was the protection symbol! It would keep him safe wherever he went! Sammy didn't know how he knew that but he did. He snatched the warded clothing from the hunter and hurriedly slipped it on. Zipping it up, the little boy hugged it to himself. He was never taking it off.

Bobby chuckled at the little boy's enthusiasm. He wasn't sure what had caused that reaction but he was happy it did. This was the most animated the five year old had been since they'd met. Grinning from ear to ear, he held the leash out to the excited boy. "Here son, you can walk him."

Sammy hesitantly took the leash from his foster dad and the two left the house. They walked across the pebbled pathway and onto the driveway. Father and son were halfway down the drive when they ran into the youngest Winchester who was throwing rocks at one of the older junkers in the yard.

"Hey Dean!" Bobby shouted. "We're gonna go for a walk! Wanna come with?"

Dean stopped chucking rocks and glared at the new kid. "Depends" he answered. "Is he going?"

"Of course Sammy's coming" Bobby told him, fighting to keep his tone friendly.

"Then I'm not." Dean growled. Huffing, he spun around and tossed the rock in his hand as hard as he could and feeling a wave of satisfaction at the sound of breaking glass.

Bobby shook his head. "Your loss." He muttered before leading Sammy and Rumsfield further down the driveway. The duo silently trudged to the end of the dirt road and onto a well-traveled path. They walked on, passing empty fields, woods, and cow pastures. The two kept going until they reached an old farmhouse.

"Bobby!" a cheerful voice boomed. "What are you doing out this way, you ole coot?"

"Chet" Bobby called back as he ushered Sammy and Rumsfield towards the overall clad sixty something year old man. Feeling the boy in his charge tense, the hunter stopped a few feet short of the balding farmer. "How goes the farm business?"

"Same old, same old" Chet replied, reaching out and shaking his friend's hand. He gazed down at the tiny boy by the man's side. "Who's your little mini me?"

"This is Sammy." Bobby introduced. "He's my foster son."

"Nice to meet you Sammy" Chet greeted, extending his hand. Seeing the boy flinch, he quickly retracted it. "So, what brings you two out on such a fine day?"

"Today is Sammy's birthday and I was thinking that since he's so taken with Rumsfield, he might like a puppy of his own for a present." Bobby explained. "You still have that litter of hunting dogs?"

"Sure do" Chet drawled. "Come on. They're around back." The friendly farmer escorted his guests to a little shed behind the house. He propped open the door and stepped inside. "They're right in here."

Curiosity getting the better of him, Sammy started to follow the men. He stopped as a tiny ball of fluff waddled over to his sneakers. Smiling, he leaned down and patted the pup's head. Then he started for the shed. After only two steps, the little boy found the fluff ball at his feet once more. Giggling, Sammy took a few steps to the left. He laughed as the puppy eagerly waddled after him. The youngster reached down and gingerly picked up the itty bitty black and white puppy and hugged him to his chest.

The pup responded by licking the boy's hand for a moment before sticking his head inside Sammy's jacket and promptly falling asleep.

Bobby poked his head out of the shed, grinning at the sight of his happy son petting the sleeping pup. "Chet, I think Sammy's found the one he wants." He whispered, pointing to the new best buds.

Chet glanced out at the boy and frowned. "That isn't one of the hunting dogs, Bobby. That there's just a mutt." He said. "His daddy snuck into the pen of my wife's Chihuahua."

"What was the dad?" Bobby distractedly asked.

"He was part Pomeranian, part Pekinese, and part who knows what." Chet answered.

"We'll take him." Bobby announced, smiling brightly as his son's laughter rang out once more. He walked out of the tin building and went over to the youngster. "That's a cute little pup you've got there Sammy. Whatcha gonna call it?"

Sammy's head snapped up and his mouth dropped open. His master was allowing him to have the puppy?! He actually got to keep it?! Giving the man a dimpled grin, the youngster snuggled the small puppy closer. Hearing the farmer repeat the name question, Sammy studied his new friend carefully. He bit the inside of his cheek as he struggled to think of a good name. He didn't think he'd ever heard…a memory of a green monster and a dog with a stick tied to his head flitted through his mind. "Max" he whispered. "You're Max." 

AN- Don't worry about the Winchesters. They'll be back in the next chapter.

And yes, that is how Max and I met. And I did name him after the dog from How the Grinch Stole Christmas. It was my niece's favorite book at the time.


End file.
